


You Are Dave Strider

by RainbowKindat221B



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Mental Hospital, So yeah, and my first fic ever, i was bored, idk wtf this is, shortshortshortshortshort, this is only the first draft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowKindat221B/pseuds/RainbowKindat221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is in a mental hospital.<br/>And he isn't enjoying a second of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Are Dave Strider

You are Dave Strider.

 

You are the knight of time.

 

You played the game.

 

You won.

 

You saved them all.

 

No one believes you.

 

 

 

They’re wrong.

~~~

The therapist walks in. She’s smiling, but it’s fake. "Hello Dave," she says as she closes the door, "how are you today?" You don’t say anything. You stare at her. She shifts. They took away your shades when you came here. Your eyes make her uncomfortable.

 

The therapist coughs lightly and sits down. She glances at her notes and says, "Dave..." you know what’s coming. You squeeze your eyes shut as she says, “can you tell me about 'the game?'"

 

You wanna punch her.

 

You wanna scream.

 

You wanna cry.

 

But you don’t.

 

Striders don’t do any of those things.

 

This time you choose to speak. "I've told you a thousand times." You voice scratches from disuse. You clear it and try again, "I’ve told you a thousand times. I got it in the mail. We played it. We went to the Medium. We fought shit. We scratched the fucking game. We beat it. We saved all your asses." You open your eyes to find the woman frantically taking notes. She glances up and jumps when she sees you staring.

  
"Dave, who are 'we?' The people who you say were with you?"

 

You can feel yourself begin to panic. Fuck. They’ve never asked this before. You don’t have a scripted answer. Should you tell them about your friends? Are they here too? Or are they pretending not to remember? Will you blow their cover by telling them?

  
Do they remember at all?

 

The woman is looking at you expectantly. Obviously your pokerface had stayed intact, or she would've questioned you more by now.

 

"There were four of us..."

 

She begins taking notes again.

 

"John, Jade, Rose and me"

 

The woman's pen stops moving, and your heart lurches to a stop. Even when she starts writing again, it doesn’t start.

  
Shit.

  
Seems like the lady recognizes your friends' names.


	2. Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave doesn't want to think about what he just learned, but he can't help it.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re trying really hard not to cry.

They were here. They were here the whole time and no one ever told you.

After the big reveal, your therapist had left. Someone had walked you back to your room and that’s where you are now, sitting on your bed. Your throat is tight, and your eyes are itching, and fuck you’re gonna cry but you can't. You are a motherfucking Strider and Striders DON'T CRY. You wish you had your shades. Then you might be able to cry and have no one notice. But you don’t have to think about that because you WON'T. CRY.

You stand up and pace. Back and forth, back and forth, your feet forming a perfect rhythm.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Rose is here. Jade is here. JOHN is here. That should be a GOOD thing, right?

Back and forth, back and forth. Your pace slows down.

If they're here, then you might be able to see them. And if you guys could beat up Lord English and all that other shit together, you can find some way to get out of here, right?

Back. And. Forth. Faster. Faster.

No, no, NO. They can't be here! That means they're LOCKED UP. Just like you, locked up like lab rats. Like prisoners. Like you-don't-even-know-what-you're-panicking-right-now. They can't be here. They just CAN'T.  
Someone knocks on the door, and enters without waiting for a response. A tall man, a guard, is there. "Ms. Jackson (you're confused for a moment, but then you remember that that's your therapist's name) thinks it would be best if you had a group room. Social interaction or something. Come with me."

Your name is Dave Strider, and as you step out of your old room, you feel a little tiny flare of hope in your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, same as last time! I only have the first 3 chapters written right now, and not much time to write, so I'm gonna upload ch 3 and then you may not hear from me for a while >__>


	3. Empty Rooms and Empty Beds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room is empty when you enter, and you're disappointed. And a little relieved. You don't really want to be with other people.

The room is empty when you enter, and you're disappointed. And a little relieved. You don't really want to be with other people. People ask questions.  
You don't like questions.  
Being with other people won't be too bad, you think, and sit down one of the four beds. It’s the only one that’s made, so you figure it’s unused. The guard mumbles something about getting back to work and leaves as you sit stiffly. Once the door clicks shut and the lock beeps, you know you're alone.  
You don’t know what to do, so you look around to try to figure out what kind of people you’ll be stuck with. The room is white, like your old one, and each of the beds takes up one wall. Each bed has a nightstand next to it. The nightstands have no drawers. You can’t hide anything in this place.  
Your bed is the one on the wall with the door. The bed to your left is the messiest. Somehow, the kid had got a hold of a sharpie, and had doodled something on the wall. Curious, you squint at it, trying to see it from your bed, but you can’t see it. You get up and move closer to the bed, taking even steps and leaning forward so you can see the picture sooner. When you finally make it out, you’re about six inches away from the bed. Your heart leaps into your throat when you see that it’s a clown. You step back slowly, reassuring yourself that it must be a coincidence, lots of kids like clowns, right?

Right.

You mentally shake yourself, and move on towards the next bed. This one's almost as messy as the first one, like the bed's owner /tried/ to make the bed, but just didn’t know how. There's a glasses case on the nightstand, and this person had gotten the sharpie too. This kid had drawn little squiddles all over the table. They have a squiddle on the bed, all pink and fluffy, and... Is that dog hair on the sheets? You shake your head, and go to the next bed. This bed is the neatest, almost fully made except for a few wrinkles. No sharpie marks covered anything you could see, but there's a shitload of magnetic w's (or are they m's) all over the white metal of the bed. This room is now creeping the shit out of you.

Logically, your solution is to sleep.

You go back to your bed, but 32.7 seconds into the walk, you hear the beep of the lock and the chatter of voices. Your eyes lock onto the door.  
6.2 seconds later, the door opens, and your eyes meet a pair of green eyes.

"Harley?"  
"DAVE?!?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, this is the last chapter I have right now... Sorry!
> 
> Side note: the title of this chapter is a Les Mis reference. Sorrynotsorry


	4. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is at school and hes making a list of weird shit and idek this chapter sucks im not even gonna write a real summary

Over the next two days, your life seems to fit back together, almost. They put you (and Lalonde, and Harley, and Egbert) back into school (probably only because they have to by law). They slow down on the weird drugs, and you have less therapy. It’s actually... kinda nice.  
but you still have the nagging feeling that something's wrong.  
Ever since the day you were moved, it seems like all of the staff are watching you. You may just be paranoid, but when you asked rose while the egbert-harleys were gone, she said she had the same suspicions.  
Strange things are happening, and it can’t be good.  
\--  
as you sit in math class (seriously, why the fuck does calculus matter?) You write a list of the weird shit that’s been happening lately. In your chickenscratch, it’s barely readable, but it looks something like this:  
1\. they took us off drugs  
they said id be on these for the rest of my life  
and then  
poof  
no more drugs  
2\. theyve been watching us  
its fucking creepy  
theres always someone staring  
3\. ever since they took us off the drugs our powers dude i seriously just said that and was serious about it have been coming back  
jade grew the mystery sharpie yesterday i still dont know how the fuck those kids god it but ive drawn some pretty sick sbahj comics on my wall  
indecipherable math bullshit "notes"  
i havent tried my powers yet  
dont need any more daves in this world yet  
worlds got enough daves  
were icing on the cake  
but not the cheap kind, the good stuff  
all you really want off the cake is the icing but youre forced to eat the actual cake  
but if you eat too much icing you get.sick  
i dont know where i was going with that but it was pretty cool  
4.i havent seen my therapist all week  
what the fuck  
i used to see her every fucking day  
now nothing  
spooky  
5\. nevermind  
thats all  
but its fucking weird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god dammit i hated this chapter i just felt bad for not doing anything  
> ummmmm  
> i hope itll get better soon  
> also someone show me how to make stuff be strike-through-ed and bolded on here plz


	5. THIS ISNT A REAL CHAPTER OK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry

IM REALLY SORRY  
school has had me really busy and also rn im trying to work on plots and actual author-y things and shit  
;lksdfjkldfjads;lflksjd;lfkj  
I also have very liittle inspiration rn ughhhh  
thanks for hanging in there, but the next chapter probably wont be for a while

xoxo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA my tumblr is imromeomotherfuckers.tumblr.com  
> woohoo


End file.
